Far Away
by Lichtherz
Summary: Scotland and France this time as young boys. Francis as a rich boy going on adventure with the 'street rat' Alasdair. And it's playing in Victorian Times America for some reason ;w; This fanfiction has also a second section which plays 15 years after the first section.
1. Chapter 1

Good morning, good afternoon or whatever time you will read this.  
My native language is not English, so please excuse my poor grammar or use of words.

Pairing: Scotland x France

Rating: T

Genre: Adventure

Disclaimer: France and Scotland belong to Europe, Francis Bonnefoy belongs to Himaruya and Alasdair Iain Kirkland (Scotland) belongs to a user in pixiv. I'll name him this way in this story… Everyone gives him another name.. *le shrug*

_

The young blond boy woke up late this morning. He was being woken by the rooster in the yard usually, but this time the rooster had not managed to do the trick. But his nurse certainly did.  
"Wake up, you foul boy. It's time for school."  
"Oh s…school!", he had been wanting to say something different. Alas, he hurried to get dressed. She had been asking if he needed help with getting dressed. "Non, Madame, I am almost 9 years old. I'm a big boy now."  
"Big boys get up earlier than you. You'll miss out breakfast. You are lucky I packed you something to eat in lunch break."  
"Merci, Madame.", the boy missed out on tying one shoe and grabbed his satchel, and the lunch package with the other hand to rush out to the street where other kids were already on the way to school.

It was one of those summer days in the old Victorian age in San Francisco which you would seem to remember but always forget. A day with no age, no event to pinpoint. The dust from the street was whirling around and the children of the richer families were running to school while the others either worked or lived on the street.  
Luckily, the city was kind of separated; there were the rich houses, there were the slums.

But our boy actually found school boring, though it could have been regarded a privilege. He didn't have many friends in class. So often he would just spend the class staring out of the window. From there he could see the harbour. The pompous Sailing ships that would invite to sail far, far away to where no one had been before. And then he started to build the impressive castles of dreams in the air. Maybe he would travel with a ship to India, maybe to Europe, maybe to China. The language would be difficult, but that wasn't of his concern. He could speak French and English fluently after all. And for one thing the learning just had to be good.

That were his thoughts until the teacher got him back onto the ground with maths.  
"…cis? Francis! Can you tell me what is the solution to f(x)=x-3?"  
"N-no…", Francis blushed and looked down in an attempt to look like he was ashamed. Mr. Beilschmidt however didn't seem to be too pleased. He asked Francis to get up and come to the front of class.  
The other children were already snickering here and there. There were also girls in the class, but they were only blushing and looked away.

As soon as Francis was in the front, the tall teacher, whose face the boy didn't remember, took out his stick and punished the boy.  
Back then it was nothing unusual. Punishment was given to children who wouldn't pay attention in class. Girls would get firm slaps onto their hands while boys got it onto their bum. Plus, they had to stand the rest of the lesson in the corner…

When school was over for that day, Francis could luckily not feel the pain on his bum anymore. He was walking home with his heads full of thoughts on this and that. They had homework for historical class. It was about a war in Europe between England and France…  
How could a girl have defeated the English? Or had the teacher said that they had not been defeated immediately? Then how did it make a difference if there had been a girl or not? And when did she live? What was her name again?

During Dinner, the blond boy still thought about the dates and names of those being involved in that war. When did the war start? Why did it start and who started it?  
"Edward the first, then the black prince. The prince of England….", he murmured.  
"Francis, could you please put away that book?", the nurse asked. "The cook has cooked your favourite dish."  
"…King of Valois. …Oui?", the blond boy looked up and it was like his bubble had been bursted.  
Of course he wasn't sitting alone at the dinner table. But his family was kind of weird to have as company. There was his father who was constantly hiding behind the newspaper. He couldn't also not remember his face.  
Then there was his sister Isabella, his two baby brothers Lovino and Feliciano. As for Isabella, she wasn't allowed to go to school at her age anymore. She would soon be sent to a boarding school to learn how to be a good housewife. The two younger brothers were still too young for school.

The days flew by and nothing special happened. Just the urge in Francis grew louder. He wanted to break out of the solitude of this life. There was just waking up, school, Dinner, Homework, going to bed. And everything just to build an uncertain future. What was he meant to be after all of this distress? What was he going to become? A business man like this father who hid behind a newspaper?  
No, Francis wouldn't want his children to never remember his face. He wanted to become something different. Especially because he was aware that he was a dreamer. Well, maybe…not a dreamer. There was something out there he /could/ reach. Just not by school.

Anyway, one day he walked to school. The sun shone as usual. But this time he went stray, walked down to the harbour of San Francisco. But eventually he ended up in the Slums…

"Oh look, a kid from the upper class!", someone shouted.  
After a short while, a dozen kids followed Francis. There he was, the rich boy with the sailor outfit, the neat short white pants and the neat little straw hat with the navy blue ribbon. He almost looked like a girl.  
And there were the 'street rats'; children clothed in rags and covered in dirt. Some of them also had marks of former fights. Scars, bruises, missing teeth… or had there been baby teeth before? And their age also ranged roughly from 5 to 15. Then, they had encircled him, leaving Francis no choice but to stand still.

"Where do you think you're going, beauty?"  
"Go home and cry to mommy!"  
They started to laugh and howl. It was actually quite scary. Violence was something not known in Francis' fixed world – well besides being a bit punished by the teacher for not paying attention. But this here was a different level.  
The children here didn't know where to stop. Or what was theirs and not theirs.  
Suddenly, one of them snatched Francis' satchel and ripped it open. "What do we have here? Can you read? You filthy rich boy."  
They threw the books around and toyed with the expensive pens.

"Stop that!", Francis screamed and lunged at the boy holding the ripped bag. He threw his fist at him.  
"What? That's all? Bwahaha! My sister can punch harder than you!"  
Francis tried a few more punchs, each one harder than the next. Unlike these boys here, the rich boy had never needed to fight, not verbal nor physical.

To the surprise of everyone, Francis had striken down the first of the 'street rats'. It was a boy just about his age but with short brown hair and thick eyebrows. A little speechless, the blond looked down at him. Francis himself also didn't look so neat as he had before. His nose was bleeding, he had lost his hat and his clothes were torn and dirty. It was inevitable that he would get into trouble at home.  
"Now it's my turn. You punched my brother. I need to restore my family's honour.", a ginger haired boy with the same thick eyebrows said and raised his fists while he went at the rich boy.  
Francis gulped and looked at the other, not thinking that he would be able to beat him too. "What? Wait, I just punched him because he ripped my bag. What does that have to do with family honour?"  
"Because…", the ginger said. "This is the rule here."  
Several kids nodded. Also, they wouldn't attack or interfere anymore but stand in a circle around them like in a boxing fight.

Round number two was just as victorious for Francis as the first round. Now he looked even more bruised and he wiped his nose with his sleeve when he had finished off the ginger. He had to admit that it had been a tough fight.  
But then… a pipsqueak with flaxen blond locks showed up with eyebrows that almost seemed to big for that face. "Now you have to fight me!", he swung his tiny fists.  
"What? How many of you are there?"  
"Just me! Come on."  
"I don't hit little children.", Francis contradicted. That was his impression until the small blond kicked his shin. It hurt worse than it should have!

The fight however also didn't last long. Then again before he could finish off the last of the Kirkland kids, the children ran all away.  
Francis was certain he had won the fight and wanted to go on his knees. But a strong hand gripped his upper arm and dragged him with them. At first he couldn't even see who it was. The long blond hair was sticking to the blood on his forehead.  
"Th' polis is comin', quick!"

Their little spurt ended somewhere near the harbour between large stacks of wood that would keep the police from seeing them. Eventually the police lost track of them and left the area.  
"Crakin' rammy ye pat oan thare. Ye pure beat a' th' kirklands…except fur yin.", the stranger grinned, Francis could hear that. "The Kirkland family has four boys."  
The rich boy sorted out his blood-stained hair with a handkerchief he had dug from the insides of his pants' pockets. Then he could see the stranger in all his brilliance.  
Cherry red hair, green sly eyes, thick eyebrows. The boy in front of him must have been about 14 or 15 years old. And he was grinning mischievously.  
"Oh non…", Francis groaned and fell onto his bum.  
He couldn't take another fight. And also not with obviously the eldest of the Kirkland brothers.  
"Haha, Dinnae worry, ah will nae rammy ye!", the redhead cheerfully said. "Ye managed tae beat up mah brothers. That's a'richt. Enough fowk honour disturbed. Ah would nae wantae fall fae grace by bein' punched intae a pulp by a wee blond lik' ye."  
That guy must have been kidding.

The redhead was lifting up the torn bag. He must have somehow gotten it. Also, all the books were in there. Not in their best shape but seemingly fine. He tossed it towards Francis. "There. Can't use them anyway."  
"Th-thank you…", the blond figured that the redhead had saved his life.  
There had never been a police. Or had there? Maybe the redhead had alarmed them. Who knows. Also, from all the street kids this one looked the tidiest.  
"Nae problem."  
"Wait!... What's your name?"

The redhead had been climbing a stack of wood and was about to get lost. "Th' name's 'Fox Kit'."  
Well it was no real name. More like a nickname. But it would be all that Francis would receive from him. The blond jammed the bag underneath his arm and followed the other the best he could.  
"How come urr ye follaein me?"  
"Why not?"  
The 'Fox Kit' turned around and grinned. "Ye keek lik' jobby!"

The blond followed the redhead over the stacks of wood, then over to the forest until they came to a stream.  
"'ere, ye kin wash yer coupon.", the redhead proposed.  
It took Francis a good while to wash his face and to work it just so he was halfway presentable and free from blood. "…My father is so going to kill me. I don't want to go home."  
"Ye don't waant to…? laddie, ye don't even ken whit ye hae. Ah wish ah hud parents lik' ye hae. Living oan th' wynd is tough as jobby. An' a' aff tae schuil. Ah wish ah cuid gang."  
"If you would look a bit like me I could swap with you. I would do it with pleasure. …You know, a person never wants what a person has enough of. At least for me. I like a change every now and then. This was also why I came down…"  
"…Yer an eejit. Guys lik' yer aff tae git themselves murdurred gey soon. 'n' nae even th' cash o` yer daddy is aff tae hulp ye."  
"So what? I want to see the world! School life is boring. I don't want to become like my father. Like a bureaucrat, like a lawyer, always sitting in the middle of dusty shelves. I mean… it's nice to read over the world, but how awesome is it to once see with your naked eye what is written in those books?"

The redhead frowned. There was some truth in those words. The blond boy obviously stood up for what he wanted. There was a strong will in this pretty skull. "Bit ah wid an' a' lik' tae read. …you wid git tae mair aboot they hings ye see."  
"Then why don't we put ourselves together? I teach you how to read and you'll be my bodyguard while I can go and see the world.", it would be like a perfect symphony.  
The Fox Kit sighed. "Ye dae nae ken whit yer saying. Just… juist gang back tae yer hoose th'day. If ye aye wantae gang wi' me tomorrow… let's catch up wi` at th' rail station. 'n' bring whit yi'll waant tae tak' fur a journey, if yer willed."


	2. Chapter 2

Good morning, good afternoon or whatever time you will read this.  
My native language is not English, so please excuse my poor grammar or use of words.

Pairing: Scotland x France

Rating: T

Genre: Adventure

Disclaimer: France and Scotland belong to Europe, Francis Bonnefoy belongs to Himaruya and Alasdair Iain Kirkland (Scotland) belongs to a user in pixiv. I'll name him this way in this story… Everyone gives him another name.. *le shrug*  
Sidenote: Alasdair will bear the nickname 'Fox Kit' for a while in this fanfiction.

_

The next morning, 'Fox Kit' waited impatiently at the train station. He had already missed out the train he had wanted to take initially. Oh these problems… That kid better show up quickly or he'd really take the next train.  
But wait, wasn't that…? Yes, it was the blond's head hurrying himself between the people. Francis' face was still bruised here and there.  
"I'm sorry, I tried my best to sneak out of the house.", the kid said, who was still out of breath. "I got in so much trouble yesterday… but it was surprisingly only the nurse. Well maybe not surprisingly."

"Okay. Tell me yer hert breaking story efter. Noo we git a train tae fetch …", Fox Kit told the blond boy how to get a train, and more importantly, stay on the train.  
"Buy a ticket?"  
"Nae, nae! That's nae howfur we dae it. Dae ah keek lik' i'm mawkit rich?"  
"I have a bit of money. I can buy a ticket.", Francis looked cheerful.  
"N-Nae. That's nae it. 'n' don't spend dosh oan that. Soon enough ye wish ye hud nae bought a ticket.", the redhead went to stop the young blond.  
"Let me explain that tae ye. …we wull travel aroond th' land. A lot. 'n' it wull be sae muckle that if ye wull buy tickets fur ilk 'n' ilka time, ye wull run freuch fae dosh. Leaves ye hee haw tae sloch."  
Francis gave the teen a confused look.

"Keek at th' train.", the Fox looked back to a large steam train. A daily overland mail train, one hell of a steam train. The engine in the front looked majestic and fearful at once.  
"Thare ur loads places oan th' train whaur fowk wi' na ticket kin sit oan 'n' travel wi'. Thare is th' wirst steid: th' pilot in th' front. Then th' 'blind' ones. That ur train segments oan whilk th' doors ur inaccessible by th' warkers. Ye cuid either sit oan th' front o' back as lang as th' door can't be opened.  
When th' warkers comes aye ye kin huv a go climb ower or beneath th' train. Beneath is far tae dangerous fur beginners."  
"And you are a professional?"  
"Aye.", there was a certain pride on Fox Kit's face. "Ah kin tak' care o' ye. Foremaist, we need tae git awa' fae 'ere. Juist pay attention tae whit a'm daein'."

Now the 'Fox Kit' waited for the train to actually start driving. He tensed up and ran up to one of the front of the wagons. This train transported both people and freight. The Kit picked one of the freight segments. He quickly managed to open one of the doors and slipped in, grabbing the blond who had run after him swiftly to close the door behind him.  
The 'pullman', what the tramps called the freight segment, was filled with cattle. They reeked from straw and cow shit, but the two boys didn't mind and just nested somewhere in the hay.  
Kit grinned at the blond.  
"For ordinar ah wouldn't tak' kids oan a journey wi' me. Bit ye proved tae be a guid travelling bidie in. Yer pure tough minded 'n' an' a' hae a guid pair o' fists."

Francis hardly understood the redhead's accent. But being a child of only 8 years he didn't question where the accent came from and what was all about it. He just used his imagination to answer that question. He was some sort of happy being there with him, finally being able to get out of his usual daily routine.  
"Yer bunnet is jobby.", Kit said and huffed. He just flicked off the straw hat from the blond head. "Ah wull git ye a better yin wance we come tae th' neist toon."  
"Oh? …That's right, where are we going from here?"  
Kit thought for a moment before he answered. "Denver Ah think 'twas …"  
"Denver…"

After a few minutes of constant ride, nothing had happened so far, Francis just decided it was time for the other to learn something. "I have never been a teacher, but I try my best to teach you how to read and write."  
The redhead hummed and looked interested as the blond packed out a block to write and a pen. "For now I show you all the letters we have.", being just in 2nd grade he remembered well how he had learnt how to read and write. He wrote down the letters Aa, Bb, Cc, and so on… He explained how there were big letters, the capitals and the smaller ones. These pairs made the same 'sound'. He tapped the letters and made that sound and let the teen repeat that. Kit was a fast learner.  
Next thing they learnt were the words, just simple nouns really. And also there, the redhead learnt fast and also brought up his own ideas for words.

About two hours later, Fox Kit was already able to read one of the books Francis had brought as well.  
"I think it's good when you read a lot. This way you can also memorise how words are written."  
The redhead just hummed and narrowed his eyes. He was concentrating on reading the book. To him, a whole new world opened.  
It wasn't that he had been too stupid to learn that. Back then, not all the children went to school. They had to help their parents on the farm, they had to work on their own to survive. There was not really a time for childhood after all. Certainly, those who knew how to write and read were better off as adults than those who couldn't.

"I'm getting thirsty.", Francis announced after some more time had passed. "I have brought food but no drink."  
"Then serve yersel'. Thare is coos.", Kit said, not looking up from the book he was reading. When he was reading, he mouthed the words as if he could understand them better this way.  
"…You think they have milk?"  
"Thay're coos.", Kit finally looked up from his book. "Hae ye ne'er milked a coo?"  
The blond shook his head.  
"Then it's aboot time. Ah whiles dae that whin A'm oot in th' fields.", the redhead grinned.

The two of them sat next to a cow's belly. There was the big pink udder dangling down and Francis just looked at it in curiosity and blushed. That piece of flesh just looked so weird and obscene. Then Kit just grabbed one of the 'pins' and squirted a bit of milk out of there. Francis had no idea how he did that. Then the redhead just bent forward to catch some of the milk with his mouth.  
"'ere, huv a go it.", he grabbed the smaller hand and moved it to the udder.  
"It feels funny…Wait, isn't that where they pee?"  
The redhead frowned and gave him a weird look, shaking his head. "Nature juist decided it's atween thair legs. Bit it's nae thair boaby. Whit thay hae atween thair legs hae girls oan thair chest."  
"Girls?"  
"Aye, Hae ye ne'er keeked at girls chests?"  
"The girls in my class are flat just like us…"  
"Thay graw tits efter. Bairns ur bound tae become adults."

"…Do we also grow things?", from that day on, little Francis would never look at girls the same way again.  
The redhead chuckled and ruffled the child's hair. "Parntly noo we put in sexual education 'ere. Ah kin ainlie speak fae mah experience. Well… as a basic, we ur bairns 'n' we graw up. As we graw taller we an' a' graw tae be suited fur reproduction. That means that whin wur grown up we ur meant tae git bairns tae. Hae ye ever seen animals daein' that?"  
"Doing what?"  
"Fur example twa dogs… yin dug oan tap o' th' ither, humping."  
"Yea, they were playing, weren't they?"  
Kit snorted and had to hold back laughter with his hand. God, how innocent this boy was!  
"What's so funny about that?"  
"Th-thay wur nae playing…"

Now in a few words, Fox Kit was explaining Francis how children were made. When a woman and a man love each other…  
When the redhead had finished, Francis looked terrified and had his mouth gaped open. "A-are you sure they enjoy that?", he was blushing furiously.  
"Aye. … Noo aren't ye druthy anymair?"  
"I won't drink milk anymore…. H-how could you still drink milk when you know all of that?"  
Kit frowned and thought about that. "Mibbie fur ah didn't mynd whaur it cam fae. Ah wis druthy 'n' milk wis th' ainlie option tae`.", his eyes turned a bit darker. "As a jaikey, lik' is pure nae a' that easy. Often it's pure survival. How come a'm aye a jaikey? keep edgy o' 'ere."  
He opened one of the doors and revealed majestic mountains and a crystal clear lake. The cargo compartment looked dark and dull compared to the splendor that was beaming in from the outside.

Then, a weird metallic sound knocked against the wagon and Kit closed the door quickly. "Looks lik' they're letting th' iron dance."  
Francis asked what this was all about. Kit explained. The brakemen who were in charge of preventing tramps from using the train without paying, used several techniques to get those tramps off the train. One was 'letting the iron dance'. They'd bind a piece of metal junk onto a rope and then stand before the wagon they want to scan. The iron would smack onto the ground and then back up at the underside of the wagon. Up and down, up and down. Usually there was always a place for a tramp to lie on the racks beneath there but with an iron smacking up into your face it's most likely a dance with the devil. If the piece of junk didn't crack your bones it would most surely send you off the train and under its wheels. Depending on the speed of the train it was definitely deadly.

"Th' best is pure whin thay let ye intae th' passenger's wagon.", the redhead said and leaned back to relax. The iron bar would not harm them here and the brakeman would definitely not knock them out of here in full speed of the train. "Thare ye kin git dram (drink) 'n' fairn (food) fur free."  
"You have really a … moved life."  
"Aye.", Kit smirked. He then told Francis how his most adventurous time had been.

This time he had been trying to stay on a train. There had been 20 tramps in the beginning. In the end he was just alone on that train. And through the whole night, the brakemen had tried to push him off the train. But being the swift and smart guy he was, he had always managed to trick the stupid brakemen and remained on there.  
One time one of the guys had to stay behind and keep a hold on the redhead until the momentum was gone where he could have reached the last cart. But they were very wrong. Even then, Kit had been able to run fast enough to catch the train.  
In the end he was hiding in the cabin of the actual driver of the train, who had witness how awesome Kit had been that night.

"How much money do you have?"  
Francis named him the sum.  
"Ah, This wey we kin survive a guid munth. Bit nae wasting it oan bevvy. …maybe a col' beer, bit getting blootert is ill."  
"Okay."

In Denver, Fox Kit decided that it was time, Francis would learn a few things.  
"So, Yer sure yi'll waant tae become a skilled jaikey? ye hae tae learn howfur tae survive 'n' howfur tae boord a train. …first o' a', yi''ll need a freish bunnet."  
Since Francis wasn't really that tall, Kit had put him up a wall. If the blond grabbed the hat that was 'his', he would be able to grab it and then run for it.  
"I steal my new hat?"  
"Aye, Bit wait… we need tae hauld yer horses 'til th' richt yin comes. Richt size, richt keek. Needs tae be something cool.", the former straw hat was still in the cargo train they had left earlier.

They waited what for Francis seemed hours. He was observing the by-passing people. All kinds of hats were there. Those funny wok-hats immigrant Asians wore, then cowboy hats, straw hats, hats of priests, those gay frilly hats of the women – which were not in the choice – really just all sizes, colours and shapes.  
Then Francis saw /his/ hat. He snatched it from an elderly man and put it on his own head – and ran for his life.  
There were other people trying to help the old man and whatnot. But the blond child was just too fast.

Fox Kit and Francis met again on an old cemetery.  
"That was close.", but Francis smiled happily looking at his hat, removing the few grey hair streaks that were there from the previous owner. The boy had a bit of a bad conscience, taking from another person. He expected the old man coming from the next corner.  
"Seems that you also passed this test. You are fast enough to become a tramp. With a speed like this, you will be able to stay on most of the trains." 


	3. Chapter 3

Good morning, good afternoon or whatever time you will read this.  
My native language is not English, so please excuse my poor grammar or use of words.

Pairing: Scotland x France

Rating: T

Genre: Adventure

Disclaimer: France and Scotland belong to Europe, Francis Bonnefoy belongs to Himaruya and Alasdair Iain Kirkland (Scotland) belongs to a user in pixiv. I'll name him this way in this story… Everyone gives him another name.. *le shrug*  
Sidenote: Alasdair will bear the nickname 'Fox Kit' for a while in this fanfiction.

_

The train rode fast down the rails and Francis was excited and scared but brave as he rode with it, clutching onto the metal. It was the first and maybe the only time he was going without Fox Kit. Still, the guards and brakemen had not been paying a lot attention about him.  
It was something like a test of his courage. The blond child had to board the train and stay on it for a while, then wait at the next station and board the train back to where Kit was waiting for him.  
It was a piece of cake in the end. No one got hurt and nothing serious happened.

"Ye did weel.", the redhead complimented and patted the hat that Francis was wearing. "Noo ye ainlie need tae learn howfur tae beg fur fairn 'n' ither goods. This is an art… yi''ll need tae invent stories lik' th' best fairy stoory teller. Jalouse yer used tae be tellt fairy tales yersel'."  
"Oui, but on the other hand I have a certain advantage. …I look cute.", the blond kid winked – which caused Kit to laugh.  
"Yes, yes that's true! No one's heart can be as hard as a rock when they see a child like you with blond curls and everything. So fortunate… ", now the redhead wondered if Francis would stay like this for a long time.  
"Where are we going now?"  
"America's ferr muckle…"

That was true. It was just the vast beauty and large scale of America that animated so many tramps to journey across the states, over and under, south, east, north and west. It didn't matter as long as they had enough to eat and a place to sleep. There was no plan to it.

"Ye aye need a 'Monica'.", Kit said.  
"I don't need a girl?", Francis giggled.  
"That's nae lassie… it's yer whit dis yer pals call ye?. Mines is 'Fox Kit', mind?"  
The blond looked at the teen. They were riding another train and had been able to get a good spot.  
"Howfur aboot 'wee prince'?"  
"Petit Prince… I like the French language. I even speak it fluently."  
"Then this wull be yers."  
"What is your real name?"  
It took quite some time until the redhead answered, so Francis almost thought he had not been heard or Kit had forgotten to answer.  
"…It's Alasdair. …Alasdair Kirkland.", his features had softened. The blond felt so curious about all of this. "Bit don't ca' me that! git that memorised?"  
"Aye!"  
Alasdair grinned at the younger one and ruffled the blond hair.

The two of them spent the following months visiting almost all of the countries of America. It didn't even matter if there was the west, the east, the ice cold north or the burning hot south.  
In Salt lake City, they made a visit to the famous salt lake which was also the name giver for the city. Up in Virginia on the train they almost froze off their bums.  
Portland was but rather… touchy. None of them were old enough to drink. Funny enough, Alasdair still used the fact how they had the last bit of cash left and ordered a few drinks, while Francis had to wait outside.

Francis was pouting outside and cursing at the redhead in his mind, wishing him the worst. He felt clearly betrayed.  
"Awright, ye hae bin waiting fur tae lang? i'm sorry.", Alasdair's face seemed to pop out from nowhere.  
"…", Francis just glared at him.  
"'twas a bawherr complicated. Come wi' me."

The two went to a back alley where they wouldn't be disturbed. Then Alasdair packed out a few old beer bottles. "Ah picked they up 'n' kind o' washed thaim oot oan thair restrooms. Then ah asked fur loads crakin' cocktails whilk ah secretly hud tae pat in 'ere. 'twas pure pernicketie tae dae wi'oot getting haunless looks. Bit noo ye kin taste thaim tae."  
That had been unexpected and Francis was baffled. He took one of the bottles and sniffed at the opening. Then he tried a bit of that and made a sour face.  
The redhead laughed. "Ye wull git used tae that.", he took the bottle from Francis again and took a sip. Then he explained what cocktail it was and what the ingredients were. Then he gave the blond the bottle back.  
Fox Kit had no bad conscience on giving the Petit Prince a taste of adulthood.

They went to see the majestic Mississippi river near Cairo and even took a bit of a swimming. As Francis called it later it felt like god had 'kissed' this place. There were the large corn fields where the two of them crouched through and just lied there, being covered by the tall golden stems of the wheat. Alasdair had spread out a blanket or something where they could lie on and wait for the air to dry their naked bodies.  
Francis curiously watched the other male's body. He could see scars and… some other differences to his own body. It made him blush. Before, he had been distracted by swimming.  
"Does it feel funny…when you grow hair like this?"  
"It's juist kittlie. (Itchy)"  
"Why do we get hairy when we get older?"  
"Hell if ah knew. Bit ah don't cop bothered awfy much."  
"Do you also grow a beard… or mustache?"  
"Aye, bit ah ower shave. Ah don't wantae keek that muckle older.", Alasdair laughed.

They fell silent again and Francis felt a bit awkward, tried to avoid looking at the other's slightly muscular body. So far, Alasdair had never been bothered by the younger one's questions. Francis wondered for how much longer it would be like this.

The next attraction on their unwritten list was the Stone Mountain in Georgia. They stared in awe at the huge mountain range. But soon enough, their peaceful watching was disturbed by a few people coming over. And from what the children heard these people had a thing for hurting black people… They were members of the Ku Klux Klan.  
Alasdair and Francis sneaked away as fast and least conspicuous as they could.

"What is so bad about black people?"  
"Ah don't ken. Thay juist … aren't liked by mony fowk 'ere."  
"Those I met were very nice. It's not their fault god has given them that skin colour. We could be black too."  
"Och, If a' body hud th' identical idea that ye have…"  
"I could… try and make it happen. Remember why I came with you? I want to become an author. I could write books and give people ideas."  
"That's… gey ambitious. Juist don't git yersel' murdurred. It wid be a pity.", the redhead looked at the blond in disbelief.  
Francis however didn't understand why it would be a pity.

A highlight on their journey was the visit to Washington, the capital of America. At least for Francis. Since he had been living on the West Coast, chances had been low for him that he'd get to see the East Coast or the Capital.  
People were busy here, had no time to pay attention for a pair of child tramps. The inhabitants of the houses were often wealthy enough to share their food with the two children.  
"He is my big brother.", Francis said, when the cook said, they could spend a bit of time inside the house, warm up and eat good food. Some people would try to get Francis in but leave Alasdair out. Then the blond said, that he'd never go anywhere without his big brother.  
The two of them then often sat somewhere comfortable and eat what they were given, drinking soda or tea.

Just annoying was when they would be given a box with cake. That would often happen on a Sunday. It was really the worst thing ever, because cake is just a dessert. Too sugary and everything to enjoy and fill your empty stomach. Even when you are hungry, you wouldn't want to eat yourself full on cake. It would give you a bad stomach.  
"Have you ever heard that quote 'if they don't have bread they should be eating cake?'.", Francis asked the older one.  
"Aye, was nae that a French Queen?"  
"Yup, it was Madame Pompadour. A lot of people think it was Marie Antoinette, but she was not that bad…"

Near the capital over in New York, there were the Niagara falls. Both were really impressed by the massive water falls. Just where did all the water come from?!  
There were also some other people for sightseeing there. And some even managed to get rather close to them.

After that, Alasdair decided it was time to get to another part of America. Long rail rides were included, but also have been missed after the short trips they had done on the East Coast.  
Francis wondered if they would ever stop journeying together. It felt like they had never done something else.  
On Francis' 9th birthday, they reached the Yellowstone National Park.

"I actually wonder if my family misses me…"  
"Ah can't tell ye that. Bit ah hae a surprise fur ye.", Alasdair blindfolded the blond who knew nothing about where they were.

Alasdair took Francis by the hand and took him through the whole park until they came to the Grand Prismatic Spring. There he unfolded the other's eyes.  
"Woaaah, what is that?!", he had not even read in books about this.  
"This is cried th' 'Grand Prismatic Spring'. Ah hae bin 'ere afore. It's juist magic, richt?"  
The blond could just nod and stare in awe while the Scot explained what exactly it was and his experiences with it. "I'd recon ye don't fall intae thare. It's tae het."

They spent that day walking around in the National Park, admiring the basalt rocks, the smaller falls that were still impressive and the geysers.

Now they went for the far south. El Paso was their goal. But it was only a short stop. Well should have been. If only the police there would have been 'nicer'.  
The two of them walked down the road of town, minding their own business, chatting about this and that.  
By now, Francis looked nothing like the cute little boy Alasdair had picked up half a year ago. He wore worn-out clothes that were actually a bit too big, he still wore the same hat he had stolen from the Asian so long ago. He looked dirty but happy, there was a fire in his blue eyes. Indeed, Francis was content with what he saw out here. Nothing like the dusty boring world he had been born into.

Then something happened what Alasdair should have been prepared for. He should have known better… when he saw that one guy coming along with two other, really unhappy looking tramps.  
The guy in the middle barked something and the tramps cut down the way of the two kids. "You'll be coming with me."  
And so they did, not being left with much of a choice. The guy turned out to be a policeman in civil clothes and he had brought them to the next court. But what happened here actually went against the basic laws of America. It was just a court with very quick giving out with sentences. There were other tramps. The Judge came in, he just spoke the name of the tramp. The tramp got up from the small wooden bench, received his sentence and sat down. Everyone received 30 days of imprisonment. All in a matter of half a minute or less!

Alasdair wanted to throw a tantrum, since he felt being robbed of his American Freedom while Francis just stared with an open mouth, not believing what was happening to him. His courage seemed to be melting in a matter of minutes, the blond felt himself close to tears. But he wasn't sentenced since he wasn't even 10 years old.  
Instead he was given to a family in El Paso that were told to watch over him – instead of going to prison.  
As for Alasdair, there was no choice left for him. He was taken to prison by a bus just along with many other tramps. He was chained to a big black man, who looked really –really – strong and was constantly laughing as if it was all just a big joke. The redhead was almost nerve-wrecked because of this.

The bus took the tramps to something like a big fort. There were many cells and a large hall in the middle where the prisoners had to chop wood for firewood or had to crush stones. Along the way, Alasdair had tried to make friends with an older guy.  
That guy told Alasdair to give his stuff to another prisoner that was already there – a good idea because the first thing the newcomers were sentenced to was giving up all their personal stuff, from a pocket knife to match sticks. Then they were showered and finally shaved off their hair. Yes, also their main hair. In the end everyone looked almost the same. It was just an act against the fleas and whatnot. Against the pests that might stick to the newcomers.  
After their shave they were dabbed with a white powder.

Alasdair couldn't recall the last time he had been so humiliated. And he already missed his little blond friend. He hoped, the young child had it better… and actually he was glad that the kid wasn't here.  
The newcomers received their new clothes and had to go to their cells.

Daily rations of food and drink were given out. Just dry bread and hot water… the hot water had different names depending on the time of day. In the morning it was 'coffee', on noon it was 'soup' and in the evening it was 'tea'. But it was just hot water with a bit of grease droplets on top.  
Alasdair was just looking at that stale bread when he received back the bundle with his belongings – which he quickly hid.  
The police wasn't really doing anything here. The whole administration was done by chosen inhabitants. There was a hierarchy of prisoners. Three overseers, then ten room men. They organised how everyone got enough food and that no one would try to break out or throw a tantrum. Because unfortunately there were also mental ill people. For today's standards it would be unreasonable to put them into jail for what they were. 


	4. Chapter 4

Good morning, good afternoon or whatever time you will read this.  
My native language is not English, so please excuse my poor grammar or use of words.

Pairing: Scotland x France

Rating: T

Genre: Adventure

Disclaimer: France and Scotland belong to Europe, Francis Bonnefoy belongs to Himaruya and Alasdair Iain Kirkland (Scotland) belongs to a user in pixiv. I'll name him this way in this story… Everyone gives him another name.. *le shrug*

_

While Alasdair had to stay in prison in god knows what circumstances, Francis was brought to a Spanish speaking family. They didn't even understand each other when Francis tried to speak French. Eventually, the blond found them extremely rude. Especially since they first just did almost the same with him like they had done with Alasdair in prison. They took away all of his belongings and dumped him into a tub. After that he received a haircut so short it went just to his ears. Francis just felt embarrassed and stupid and whatnot.  
Then they gave him some sort of sailor suit like he had owned in the beginning. Did they have no other clothes for a boy in the Victorian era?!  
At least he got back his things.

He had to spend 30 days on there, and the only reason Francis remained there for this time was because he didn't know if Alasdair was going to break out or something. He would miss him if he'd break out himself.  
So, the month passed by and in the end the blond went to look and wait for the redhead.  
…But he never saw Alasdair again.  
Sad and lonely, Francis rode his way back home to San Francisco where everything had begun. His family had been ill of worry for him. But he just said he would write a book on his adventures. It was just too much to be told in one night.  
He had spent a little more than a year with Alasdair, aka Fox Kit.

15 years had passed ever since. Francis had grown to be a very handsome man. After his first book on tramping through America, he had written many other books, and after a journey to Europe also written books on France and other places. His books practically brought him everywhere and many people liked how he wrote.  
Sometimes Francis wondered if it all had been just a summer night's dream… that journey with the redhead. Oh how he wished he would see him again, speak to him again.  
Where he was? No idea. Hopefully not in that prison near El Paso anymore.

By now, Francis was back from his journey to Mexico and was on a steamboat back to the US. Now he wasn't living in San Francisco anymore either. He had moved to Louisiana, most of all to improve his French.

The boat was covered in thick mist this day. Even when the shore was close by, it was not seen. But the people in charge for this ship had the opinion that they were save on this construct of steel and wood, and with their signal bell they would approach further and further into the mist that covered the air.  
Then also the ship collided with something in the thick soup-like mist. Soon enough, the rooms inside the ship were running full with water. The people noticed it too late and panicked!  
People tried to save themselves, flotsam and jetsam were flushed out of the ship. Among there were also horses and cattle.  
Francis tried to help the people. There had been one child stuck in one of the rooms inside the ship. He brought the kid outside. The water wasn't that cold in that area luckily. The clothes would make it difficult for swimming anyhow.  
Whatever had been on the captain's mind must have been complete bullshit!

Eventually during the sinking of the ship, Francis was hit on the head by something and fell into the slightly cool water as well.  
The refreshing water revived him and he clung to some flotsam, a wooden crate. More and more was he drifting off. He couldn't see through the mist of course and the water was drenching, soaking his clothes. All he could hear were the desperate cries of the drowning people.  
But even gurgling cries were not as bad as was the eerie silence that soon followed. All that our Frenchman could hear was the natural sound of the waves. Not even seagulls which had to mean that he wasn't even near the land. Goddammnit…

After what felt like hours, he could make out the frame of a ship coming closer. But he was so tired that he passed out. The last thing he had seen was a man with a red beard…

Slowly, the Frenchman regained consciousness. He was aware to be in a room … on a ship. He noticed the waves that rocked the ship he was on and there were splashes against the wooden frame. He was lying on a bed.  
Blinking his eyes he slowly arose and found himself alone in a larger cabin. Then he noticed that he was naked except for the blanket that had been given to him. Those guys must have stripped him since his clothes had been all wet. But alright, there were 'new' clothes lying around. They reeked a bit and were torn here and there. He put them on nonetheless and sighed. Telling from the desk, the things that were lying around this must have been the captain's cabin. Among the bookshelf he recognised – one of the books Francis had written.  
"Oh, a fan?", a smile graced the blonde's lips. This was unexpected.

"Hae ye finally woken up? we don't hae space fur lazy men oan th' ship.", a hostile voice called from the door. It was a strongly build man with wild red hair and a red beard who glared at Francis. The blond could see a familiarity, but he didn't know what it was. Where had he seen this man before? "Whit kin ye dae? hae ye ever worked wi' yer hauns?"  
"Uhm… maybe we should introduce ourselves at first? Thank you for fishing me out."  
"Aye, Aye… Me name is Kirkland."  
"I am Francis Bonnefoy. And I am an author. I see you have one of my books there."  
Then something flashed in the redhead's eyes and he grunted. "Let's git oan deck.", he mumbled.

On deck, the captain lit a cigar. "You are French, aren't you? This means you will be cooking from today on. Fur even whin ah hae yer book… there's nae muckle mair uise fur an author oan a ship, ye see?"  
The current cook who happened to be on the deck protested – but was cut short when Captain Kirkland barked some harsh words at him… it ended so that the current cook was sent to work among the sails.  
"Let me introduce you… tae mah ship, th' 'Nessie. We catch seals 'n' wee'er whales fur an income.", Kirkland explained.  
Francis was sure that he had heard this accent before… but he couldn't remember when and where.

It turned out that this red bearded Kirkland ruled his ship with a fist of steel.  
For example, there was this 16 year old kid who barely knew what he was doing. In short, Kirkland set him to work with the harpoons. And gods help him if he didn't work right. One target missed and the lad got punished with hard punches and didn't get dinner for that day.

To Francis however, the captain was against expectations nice. Maybe it was because Francis actually was a better cook than the previous one.  
For Francis himself it was a tough job. The kitchen had been in a bad shape at the first day. He had spent almost the whole week to get things clean, shiny and fixed. But from then on, it was acceptable.  
Then again, his task was also to disembowel the animals they captured. For work like this he dressed with a big apron, took his biggest knife and cut through flesh and bone, often also having to kill the still fighting animal. It was dirty work.

"It seems that the crew is getting jealous.", Francis mentioned his problem to the captain one day when he was peeling potatoes in the kitchen. The captain was the only person in the room. Sometimes they would sit together like that, when the redhead wasn't busy with looking where the next prey was.  
"That shuid nae be yer kinch, shuid it?"  
"I am just concerned. …Why are you being so nice to me?"  
"How come nae? yer th' cook.", a smile could be made out behind the thick beard. "Th' maist important crew member. 'n' yer better than ah expected."

After a period of silence, interrupted by the sounds of Francis peeling potatoes – he was not a fast peeler – Kirkland got up and grabbed a potato.  
"In trial yin o' thaim wull harm ye, ah wull dae this wi' thaim.", the captain crushed the potato slowly in his right hand. It was a raw potato, for sure… but the redhead had simply crushed it like it was nothing!

The daily life on the 'Nessie' was rather rough. There were some unforgettable incidents like one day shortly after having left the harbour of Eureka one man had poisoned himself with a bottle of booze he had bought. The crew was standing around him in a circling, practically watching the man die.  
The poor man gurgled and twisted in many ways… until there was no motion anymore.  
The captain dropped a piece of linen over the corpse.  
"Finally. Noo stoap gawping 'n' git back tae wirk. …ah, this jimmy is boggin' noo. Ye 'n' ye, prepare him fur his burial at sea. Ah cannae uise a corpse oan boord.", the captain exclaimed and went restlessly over deck.  
What a cold hearted man.

The two guys who had been addressed sewed the man into the linen and made him ready for to be thrown aboard.  
"We aye need someone tae utter th' usual litany. …what aboot ye, poet?", the redhead looked over to Francis who had just brought over some tea for the crew to drink.  
"Uhm… I'm not a priest."  
"Didnae ask fur that. Come 'ere 'n' say something crakin'.", the redhead Captain ordered.

Francis just frowned and stumbled to stand next to the sack of linen. He was glad to not have to see the corpse. "Uhum… so we have… gathered here to mourn the death of … what was his name?"  
Someone called a name and Francis used that and continued right away. Thank god creativity was given to him. Really, ever since he had been on this ship, there had often been situations where his wits helped him. It was obvious that the blond hardly had muscles in comparison to the others… but he had a brain and used it. It didn't seem to be a problem.  
The sack of linen was tossed into the sea after the Frenchman had ended his small made up litany.

"Guid, noo back tae wirk!", the captain shouted who had also stayed just to see how this worked. He was pleased with the work of the new crew member. "It seems lik' ah kin uise ye fur ferr some time."

Another time, the first mate brought one of the crew members to the captain as the member had ranted about how bad the goods were that were given out to the crew. These goods were sold to the individual members and the price was just taken from the crew member's pay.  
As it happened, Francis was in the captain's cabin. He had just spoken with him and had known nothing about the incident.

"Dae ye ken whit happens tae they wha blether jobby aboot me 'n' mah wares?", the captain said when the crew member appeared alongside with the first mate in the cabin. From what Francis remembered, that poor guy's name was Jones.  
"I know it, Sir."  
" Whit's it? "  
„The stuff the first mate and you are going to do with me, Sir."

"Keek at him, Frenchy.", the captain's attention was drawn to Francis. "Keek at that bit o' souled stoor, that wee bit o' maiter that moves 'n' breaths 'n' dares tae disobey me, fur it's confident tae be made fae something guid, That's drooched in human fantasy lik' justice 'n' honesty 'n' it clinging tae thaim despite a' inconveniences 'n' threats… whit dae ye think?"  
Francis was a little bewildered at the quite elegant choice of words… for a brute man that the captain was. On the other hand he was reading a lot. Apparently, no one should judge a book by its cover.  
Before answering, the blond made a note that he would write another book if he'd ever be able to get off this ship.  
"I think he's still a better person than you.", Francis answered as he aimed to take a bit from that rage that was about to be cast upon the poor sailor's head. "…His human fantasies – how you call it – create nobility and masculinity."  
The captain hummed and there was something wild in his eyes. "Damn right, Frenchy. I would say that a living dog is better than a dead lion. But I know just one rule - The rule of the strongest!"

And with that, the redhead jumped from his sitting position right at Jones. The distance had been about 3 metres (ca. 9 feet)! It was an avalanche of pure wrath that was poured over Jones who tried to defend himself bravely.  
It was a cruel and unfair battle, the poor Jones against the first mate and Kirkland. It was not that the Captain would have needed any help, but it was way too much like this. Could a human being take up just as much?  
Soon enough, Jones was covered in bruises and blood.  
Francis felt nauseous here and wanted to go out, but Kirkland lunged at him and brought him back, shoved him into one of the corners in the cabin.  
"Ye bade 'ere 'n' gather material ower th' immortal soul… yit, we cannae hurt his soul, juist th' mortal frame it's in! ", the captain laughed while he beat the poor sailor into a pulp.

When the captain and the first made were done with Jones, the poor lad was blinded, bleeding out of ears, nose and mouth. The captain's cabin was turned into a slaughterhouse. There was blood and damaged nautical items everywhere.  
Never again would Jones lament over bad goods or question his captain's authority. 


	5. Chapter 5

Good morning, good afternoon or whatever time you will read this.  
My native language is not English, so please excuse my poor grammar or use of words.

Pairing: Scotland x France

Rating: T

Genre: Adventure

Disclaimer: France and Scotland belong to Europe, Francis Bonnefoy belongs to Himaruya and Alasdair Iain Kirkland (Scotland) belongs to a user in pixiv. I'll name him this way in this story… Everyone gives him another name.. *le shrug*

_

The air on the Nessie was blistering with tension. The crew was mad at their captain and at any given moment, the situation could escalate.  
While Francis tried to stay out of everything, there was another guy barking insults at the captain. The captain himself just stood there calmly, smoking one of the streaks of tobacco like usual. Every one of the crew expected the captain to react at any unexpected time… but nothing happened. The redhead just stood there and smoked his cigar while the Crew Member – his younger brother as it turned out – shouted the wildest accusations at him.  
One of the other sailors came over and tried to calm him down, but ended up getting beaten up instead of the captain.

"Why didn't you react to him?", Francis asked as he stepped close to the captain.  
"He is juist lik' a barking dug. He offendit me a'richt a' th' time …", the lad had probably stood there for 20 minutes, just shouting insults. "Bit he does nae hae th' baws tae actually dae something wi' me."  
"…Just watch out. Everyone in the crew hates you. They don't trust you. And … no matter how strong you are… there's the night, there are times in which you can't fight them off."  
"Ah ken that tae. Bit dae ye think thay wid respect me otherwise?"  
For once, the captain seemed like a sad and lonely man to Francis. He almost wanted to give him a hug.  
"Whit urr ye keekin at? dae nae ye hae wirk?", the captain asked, irritated.

One of the following nights, Francis was restless in his cabin. By now he had his own cabin. There was the major cabin where all the crew members fitted in, then the first mate, the captain and the cook had their own cabins.  
Anyway, Francis suddenly heard a strange sound. There was something knocking against outboard. It had sounded like metal. Slightly irritated, the blond quickly got dressed and up to the deck. It was empty, except for the man standing on the steering wheel. Francis walked up to him and asked him if he had seen or heard something.  
"No? …No, I haven't."

A moment later, sound of water and someone climbing up the ship was heard, then the captain appeared just there where the sound came from. Despite the red hair, it was obvious that he had gotten into a fight, his head was bleeding.  
"Ye haven't heard anythin'? nae seen anythin'? jalouse a'm needin' tae replace ye tae.", captain Kirkland snarled at the poor lad at the steering wheel. Then he turned to Francis. "Ye come wi' me."

The two of them went into the major crew cabin. It was practically walking into the lion's den. Francis could sense the danger while the captain simply wanted to find out who had kicked the first mate aboard. Who was sleeping? Who was pretending to?  
Suddenly through the dark, someone threw a torch at the captain's head. After that, things escalated quickly. Soon enough, the whole crew – that was up to 20 people – had gathered as an angry mob around the captain. Everyone was trying to give him a good punch or kick. Also Francis got some of the punches involuntarily.

The captain eventually managed to escape after what felt like hours. Francis followed swiftly after. Sometimes it really came in handy that ships tended to have multiple doors and trap doors connecting rooms.  
Francis found the captain in his cabin, taking off the torn shirt.  
A smile appeared on the redhead's lips. "Hm… Ye wull hae a stoatin time as a doctor oan this ship. …go ahead."  
The blond hesitated for a bit. Then he got the first aid box from a drawer and went closer to the captain. Why did the redhead trust him so much? On a closer look, the captain seemed to have a quite athletic body. Like those old greek statues carved from marble. Well-toned muscles underneath a milky white skin. Well now, that milky skin was covered in bruises, blood and older scars, and here and there patches of hair at the right places: The chest, the forearms, under the arms…

But just those muscles!  
When the captain lifted his arm to feel the head wound he had carried from that fight, Francis could see the muscles moving underneath that skin like an individual animal.  
"M-may I point out, that… that you have pretty well toned muscles?", Francis said breathlessly.  
"Sae? they're juist muscles. Made fur a purpose. Animals hae thaim tae, tae rammy, tae survive. Sae it's hee haw unusual."

The Frenchman huffed and started his work by cleaning up the wounds and disinfecting them with alcohol. There was plenty of alcohol in the captain's cabin and he wondered if the captain was an alcoholic. But he had never seen him drunk yet.  
He expected the captain to punch him, whenever he heard the redhead hissing out of pain. The cleaning and disinfecting of the wounds obviously went with a sting for the person that got treated that way. Then again, Francis felt safe. How possibly was that to happen? The captain wasn't stupid…  
After that, he bandaged the captain where it was needed and Kirkland lit another cigar.

"Ye keek fucked tae. Let me tak' care o' that."  
Francis looked like he had been caught unaware – which he in fact was. That was the least thing he had expected. "Don't gimme that keek. Haud aye."  
And so the redhead cleaned up the bleeding nose and some bruises. "I'm sorry aboot that shirt. Yi''ll need tae fix thae tears. Ye ken whaur th' yarn is."  
"A-a…yes.", the Frenchman had been tempted to say 'Aye'. It was just weird hanging out with this man.

Silence filled the cabin as Francis tidied up the first aid box. Then his gaze fell onto the maps on the table. It looked like something the redhead had been working on.  
"Urr ye interested in mah wirk? ye mist be thinking that ah don't wirk at a', by howfur muckle time ah spend oan deck 'n' everything.…this is a freish technique ah figured. A navigation technique that mak's everything easier. Dae yi'll waant tae learn mair?"  
Francis nodded and put the box away to where it belonged. The two males sat together, looking at the maps.  
The redhead explained how he worked with these instruments and how he navigated by localizing two pinpoints in the sky and the third on the earth.

"You seem to be understanding a lot of those mathematics…"  
"Mhm.", Kirkland proudly leaned back. He seemed to ignore the pain the wounds were still causing him. "Ah taught it a' masell. Ah hae ne'er bin tae schuil. Ah don't wantae uise this fur noble reasons. A'm waantin' tae mak' dosh fae it. Yi''ll need tae think aboot th' future efter a'."  
"Oui. …You have quite a lot of books. …Where did you learn how to read when you have never been to school?"  
"Och, Someone ah met a lang time ago taught me howfur to…i wonder whit he's daein' noo."

Truth was, that the captain knew fully well what 'he' was doing now. But he kept the truth to himself. That sadistic bastard…

A few days further it was time to load water on some nearby island. The first mate, that had reappeared again, had guided the ship to Ooma. The crew was then split into several groups. The two most rebellious mutineers would remain on the ship under Francis' observation, the rest of the crew was on the beach, pending from the drink water source to the ship and back, and the captain was taking a nap in his cabin. Francis was even given a gun in case the mutineers decided to make a run for the island group.

On a small moment of unawareness, the two of them, Jones and the younger Kirkland fled in a boat, alongside with a dark skinned crew member. Francis cursed. It would turn out bad for all of them!  
"What are you thinking? Come back, you're making things worse!"  
The young Kirkland just snarled at him and they paddled away.

As they were a few yards away from the ship, the gun was ripped out of Francis hands by the captain who was suddenly just there. Two shots were just a warning.  
"The next one is getting you if you don't come back immediately!", the captain shouted.  
Another shot tore away the rudder blade, leaving the small crew on the boat unable to move further. The dark skinned male jumped out of the boat. …But he didn't get very far. The shark tore him apart and ate him…

The water was restored on board of the Nessie.  
The days flew by now with even more tension before, even that now they were aiming to get to the Bering Sea where there was said to be many seals to hunt. The Bering sea was located between Russia and Alaska.  
But now the captain just needed to show himself on deck and knives flew near him. Luckily they always missed him, but the urge to kill him was there.

When the younger Kirkland, Arthur was his first name, got out a gun to shoot his brother, not much came out of it. The captain just stared at his brother, unimpressed.  
"How often do I have to tell you that you must not leave the munition in your clothes boxes? Your clothes are damp. Wet munition doesn't work. If you keep that up, you won't get to hunt many seals…", he groaned and walked away, still unimpressed.

Mist came up again. And with it nostalgic feelings for Francis. How long had it been since he was here? Half a year now? Almost one year? He had lost his measure of time. It didn't matter right anymore either.  
He was meant to reach some harbour in America. Then again curiosity had made him forget about his initial goal. He became interested in the fate of the Nessie with their weird crew and their captain.  
The captain was brute and harsh… yet very intellectual at once. And the crew was either fearing or hating their captain. Some of them had given up fighting their captain and went along with him pretty well. Executing commands was all that was needed, it seemed.  
And then there were the guys who would always rebel against their captain. Perhaps this was in short how society worked and the captain was taking the role of a monarch.  
And the nation was the ship…

When the mist revealed the view of a calm sea, a tiny boat was given free. There were four people on there who had obviously been shipwrecked. Their initial goal had been Yokohama in Japan. But a storm had kicked their ship under water and they had been in that tiny thing for a few days now.  
Among these people was a woman. Right. That was what had been missing among this society.  
And she was a pretty woman at that, probably in her late 20s or early 30s, Francis couldn't tell.  
She was also French and went by the name 'Marianne'.  
The captain found her quite appealing… he smiled for once and chose some nice words to speak to her, welcomed her to the ship.

Shortly after the newcomers had been invited to the Nessie, their boat got lost.  
Which also were lost were Jones and Arthur, obviously they had taken the boat with them. After one and a half day, the Nessie caught up with them but… their boat had a hole in there, the crew could see Jones trying to get the water out there.

"Scooping water oot o' a boat fur 2 days kin surely wear someone oot. ", the captain said as he stood next to Francis. The crew was standing by the railing as they watched the two mutineers in the boat, fighting for their life. " Dae ye hawp in promises? "  
"Of course."  
„…Ah promise ye tae nae titch thae twa gentlemen."  
Francis huffed. Of course not! Obviously, when no one laid a finger on them, they would drown and die. What kind of promise was that? 


	6. Chapter 6

Good morning, good afternoon or whatever time you will read this.  
My native language is not English, so please excuse my poor grammar or use of words.

Pairing: Scotland x France

Rating: T

Genre: Adventure

Disclaimer: France and Scotland belong to Europe, Francis Bonnefoy belongs to Himaruya and Alasdair Iain Kirkland (Scotland) belongs to a user in pixiv. I'll name him this way in this story… Everyone gives him another name.. *le shrug*

_

This evening, the crew and the newcomers dined together for once. Francis found it rather uncommon that the captain sat with his crew. But he also noted that now that the two mutineers had been gone, everyone had calmed down.  
The captain started to talk sweetly to the woman, but Francis didn't really pay attention to that since he had a bit of a chitchat with someone else.  
That was until Kirkland mentioned his name. "Juist keek at mr. Bonnefoy 'ere. Whin he cam oan mah ship he wisnae even hauf th' jimmy he is th'day. He wis juist a weakling. Pale 'n' soft. Weel, as fur th'day he does nae hae reached yit whit a jimmy cuid reach bit he surely haes got somehin. "  
The Frenchman blushed a bit.  
"Yit he wears a dagger oan his belt at th' tea buird. Does a gentleman dae this? ah wull hae tae git armed 'til ah kin allow masell tae gang oan deck wi' him. Gey, gey ill ~", Kirkland said in a playful voice. He was obviously trying to flirt with the girl sitting next to him.  
The crew laughed.

When the crew was gone, the three of them still sat together for a bit, talking about what they were going to do.  
"Will no ships pass by?", Marianne asked.  
„No, never…", Francis muttered. He had never paid attention to that fact before.  
"I don't have anything to wear. I am not used to the life… as you lead it.", she said.  
„Ainlie sealers. Ah kin gie ye needle, thread 'n' a bawherr o' fabric. Mibbie ye kin sew something fur yersel' fae it? yi''ll need tae learn tae adapt tae that lee."  
Marianne didn't exactly looked happy and Francis felt bad for her.

"Ye sloch, sae ye hae tae wirk fur yer fairn. Mah crew hunts seals 'n' whales. Ah sail this ship 'n' mr. Bonnefoy helps me wi' that. ", captain Kirkland explained. "Whit urr ye daein'? urr ye workin' or urr ye a scunner? ah don't mean tae insult you… A'm juist curious."  
They went deeper about this subject and as it turned out, Marianne was working at a newspaper.  
"I remember you now… I had a letter from you saying how one of my short story was not going to make it into your newspaper that week.", Francis exclaimed.  
"Really?"  
"Yes, I remember it because it was written by hand. Very neat handwriting.", Francis sat closer to Marianne and the two of them started to chat about literature.  
The captain however looked pretty jealous and started to chew on his cigar. Eventually he got out of the dinner room with a pretty annoyed face.

Later, Francis found out that the captain had gone out to let off steam… someone from the crew was found bruised and bleeding again.

"What are you doing, Madame?", Francis hissed as he was walking on a night over deck to check if everything was alright. He had spotted Marianne trying to set free the boat of the ship.  
Upon coming closer he also noticed that Marianne was crying, the front of her clothes were torn.  
"Mon dieu, what's wrong?"  
"H-he's … the captain…", she was shaking with tears.  
It didn't need any further words. Francis helped her with the boat. He also gave her some provisions.  
„Why don't you come with me?", she asked as the boat was set on water. "You are also an author… you don't belong in here."  
The Frenchman looked down at her. This seemed like a twist in the story. Was he going to go with her? Or should he stay here… with the rapist captain?

No need to think twice. Shortly after, the two of them rowed away from the Nessie.

With the night came the mist, a good thing because even when someone noticed their absence, no one would be able to see them. Bullets would also be too valuable to shoot without sight.  
The two of them ended up spending days on the small boat. It felt like they had the world to themselves.  
Having nothing to shave his beard off, Francis' face soon got covered with golden-blonde stubble. Marianne found it funny and managed to laugh about it.

After a week on sea, they reached a coast.  
"Is that an island… or more?", Francis asked with a hoarse voice. Their provisions were used up for 3 days now. The only water they had been able to somewhat consume was rainwater.  
"…I don't care.", she answered with a flat voice.  
Exhaustion took the rest from them and they fell unconscious.

On the next day, Marianne was gone.  
Where had the charming French girl gone? Had she fallen victim to the wild animals here?  
Now instead of her… another companion was there. It was the captain of the Nessie.  
What the hell, thought Francis and gawked at the redhead in sheer disbelief. Had Marianne turned into Kirkland in the end?  
„Surprised tae see me?"  
„…You can say that."  
„ Ah wis juist as surprised tae fin' ye here…traitor. "  
„I… I… ah..", well it was not exactly rebelling against his captain but he had just run from him! On a second glimpse, he noticed that something was missing. "But how… I mean… Where's the ship?"

The redhead gave a low chuckle. "We ur alone oot 'ere. This is Jakeson island 'n' wur stranded 'ere. … mah crew managed tae finally overthrow me. Thay fun this island 'n' th' twa o' ye. Thay picked up th' lassie 'n' left us 'ere tae rot…"  
Kirkland also explained how they left a bit of provisions, cans mainly, also two guns, a bit of tobacco and a knife.  
"Din worry… ah will nae murdurr ye. Nae even fur ye running aff."

Francis hummed, as he tried to piece together what had happened. He was set together with that captain and the 'good guys' had captured the ship Nessie and went off to god knows where. Why had they left him behind?! Wasn't he one of the good guys either? Just because he had talked so much with the captain? It was not his fault the captain had demanded him so often.  
The Frenchman got frustrated and fumed.  
"Whin we guide tae reach th' land o' th' wee twigs we kin git back intae society… mibbie stairt anew.", the redhead said and offered Francis the other half of the can he had been boiling over the little campfire that had been there ever since the blond had woken up.  
"So… there's hope?"  
"Aye."

They ate together in silence as they sat near the shore. The nature here was pure. Never seen human before. Thick grass, thick woods… and some snowy mountains in the background. The captain said that they had to cross the mountains and reach the southern coast in order to reach the 'land of the small twigs'.  
After 'dinner', Kirkland rummaged in a bag and brought forth a pretty worn out book. "Ah cuid save this. …it was… gey important. Ah wanted tae gie it back tae tis gaffer. Th' body wha taught me howfur tae read.", a weird smile could be recognised underneath the thick red beard.  
Francis grabbed the book and looked at it. He opened it and looked inside, clueless what to do with it. Then recognition struck him like lightning. He recognised the Lexicon that he had with him so many years ago… on that summer in San Francisco where he had taught 'Fox Kit' how to read…

Tears formed in the blonde's blue eyes. He didn't even try to keep them from falling onto the withered old pages. Then he looked up at Alasdair and cursed himself for not having been able to recognise him from the start!  
He had spent so much time with the captain on the ship… so much time with his childhood friend!  
"…You are Fox Kit."  
"Ah hae pat doon that name lang ago. …but a'm aye Alasdair Kirkland.", the redhead smiled sweetly. Then he pouted. "Just… howfur cuid ye nae see 'twas me? ah tried tae mak' ye notice fur months! …i wis juist sae happy whin ah fished ye oot o' th' cooncil juice. Ye hae na idea."  
"Why didn't you show me this earlier? Why didn't you say who you were?"  
"It wid hae spoiled it… ah wanted tae be patient. Ah didn't ken ye wid mind me …", now he looked sad into the flames of the campfire. "We hae nae seen ilk ither again after… that incident back then. An' a' ah hae ne'er read yer whit dis yer pals call ye? oan ony o' th' stations."

"Oh that incident back then… How young we were…", Francis muttered. "It has not been too bad for me, regarding from today's standing point. But for you? Jail must be harsh."  
"Wid ye write a book oan it, whin ah wid tell ye?"  
"…Depends.", Francis gave him a cheeky grin. "I could write another one on this one. The happenings on the Nessie. I could alter the names though."

By the end of the next week, the two of them reached the southern coast, where there were even a couple of sailors who were able to pick them up and get them back into the known world. 


End file.
